Rebellion
by VioletRose136
Summary: Peeta Mellark was saved by the rebels and taken from the arena in Catching Fire, leaving Katniss Everdeen in the hands of the Capitol. There is nowhere to run and no one left to trust. This is the story of the man who led a rebellion.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **

I'm branching out into a new category with this story and I hope y'all like it. I assume this storyline has been done before, but I decided to put my own spin on it. Note: this is not Mockingjay told from Peeta's point of view, it's different. :-)

Hope you enjoy this.

Happy New Year! :-)

- VioletRose136

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

It took them a long time to convince them I was ready for this, a trip to District Twelve. And it took even longer for them to prepare me for what I would see: rubble and bones, the ruin of the only place I have called home.

Thirty days. It has been thirty days since I was lifted from the arena and Katniss was taken by The Capitol: thirty days since I nearly impaled Haymitch with a scalpel and thirty days since we arrived in District Thirteen. It has been less since I learned of the fate of District Twelve and less since I learned about my family's own fate. They didn't tell me at first, they believed I was too frail for the knowledge. And maybe they were right, I figure now, looking around at my District. Could I have handled the knowledge that all I had once known was dust? Well, not all I have known. The Capitol left the Victor's Village strangely intact.

I am standing there now, in my art studio. A little ways away is the house Katniss occupied for a short time with her family, with her mother and sister Primrose and that moody cat. I think about going over there, looking through their possessions and seeing if there is anything that Primrose and Mrs. Everdeen would want. All around me are scenes from a world I would rather forget: the woodland arena in our first games. And all the scenes with Katniss and me: Katniss caring for me, Katniss sleeping, Katniss kissing me.

A memory of her perfect, bow-shaped lips slams unwelcome into my head. I close my eyes and grasp the back of a nearby chair. In moments like these it feels as if I have been torn in two. Always, I walk around with a feeling of emptiness: a feeling that speaks of the world losing its light. I am a man who has lost my way.

With Beetee's help, I have come up with a game that helps me remember what is real and what is not. A game that pulls me through the darker moments, when memories of the arena and death and her overtake me, making me want to do nothing but return to my apartment in District Thirteen and curl into a ball. It has no official name, but if it did, I suppose the name would have to be _Real or Not Real? _

How it works is simple: I state a fact and then state whether or not it is real. It reminds me of my goal… and the path to them.

My family is dead and District Twelve is destroyed.

Real.

Nine hundred members of the population of District Twelve were led to safety by Gale Hawthorn and then taken to District Thirteen.

Real.

District Thirteen's president, President Coin requested that I be saved from the arena and Katniss be left.

Real.

She wants me to be The Mockingjay.

Real.

Katniss is safe in District Thirteen.

Not real.

I open my eyes and look around the room and decide that there is nothing here that I want to take with me. Not a family token or even a sketchbook. District Thirteen is strict about their resources, but there is always a blank sheet of paper for me to use, a sharp pencil for me to dull while I'm drawing. I don't want my old sketchbooks. I carry enough images in my head of the Games. I don't need further ones.

I take my time with leaving the house. After all, when I leave I will radio up to Gale and ask him to come down and help me find whatever might comfort Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose. When I leave home, I will no longer be alone. My precious time, in fresh air and above ground (almost all of District Thirteen is hidden underground) will be over and I will return to District Thirteen and to countless meetings with President Coin.

Plutarch Heavensbee has told me that a rebellion has started and that The Capitol will be overthrown if it is successful. And they want me to be the Mockingjay: the leader of the rebellion. But it feels wrong, I am not the Mockingjay, I never was the Mockingjay. Katniss was the Mockingjay; it was the pin she wore into the first Games that inspired the seal – and later figurehead – of the rebellion. I wore nothing into the Games. I never, ever offered inspiration or fire for the rebellion. I followed Katniss. It was her who pulled the berries in the arena. It was her who inspired the rebellion.

Haymitch is insisting that this is what Katniss wanted for me. That she wanted me to lead the rebellion and inspire the millions.

"_She may have been the figurehead, but she wanted you to lead it."_

"_You can't know that."_

_Haymitch sighed irritably. "Listen, sweetheart. President Coin requested specifically that it be you who be pulled from the arena. And if she'd been part of the decision, Katniss would have wanted the same thing. She told me once that she thought it was you who could inspire the millions and who could move Panem."_

"_But I don't have a rebellious bone in my body. I never even got detention at school." Well, I did once but the teacher told me not to come to it by the end of the lesson. I decide not to mention this._

"_But you can move the people!" Haymitch's eyes flash angrily. "Listen, Peeta: it was you who managed to save Katniss. The star-crossed lover escapade was __**your**__ idea! Telling Panem she was pregnant was __**your**__ idea. You're not powerless here."_

"_She pulled the berries."_

"_You told everyone you loved her." He repeated._

The conversation echoes in my head now: after Haymitch's last comment I had gotten up and left the room. While Haymitch had a point, I was indecisive: on one hand telling Panem I loved Katniss had saved her and had probably saved me, too. It was the idea of two lovers being separated forever that had forced Seneca Crane to change the rules of the Games so we could both win. Telling Panem that Katniss was pregnant had fuelled opposition to the Games and probably had fed the need for rebellion against the Capitol. But what had it all come to? The Capitol was still in charge, District Twelve was gone and Katniss was in custody or maybe even dead. None of my actions had actually changed anything and it probably would have been better if I'd kept my mouth shut and died in the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games. Katniss would have gone home and less people would have died.

Would she have given her life in return for the thousands of lives which were lost in District Twelve? I was pretty sure she would. Even better, I know that I would trade places in a moment with the people. I wish it had been me who had been taken by the Capitol. Katniss had reason to be here, she had family. If I died at the Capitol's hands, I might be missed… but I would eventually be forgotten. Not Katniss: she had a fire that burnt so brightly… I couldn't imagine it ever going out.

What would she have wanted? That was another question that plagued me. Would she want me to battle the Capitol? Would she want me to take her place as the Mockingjay? Would she want the much less remembered Boy on Fire to step up and rebel? Or would she want me to refuse to battle the Capitol and to keep those she loved safe?

The question remained unanswered and would as long as I chose to stand in my home, doing nothing. So I pulled the Communicator they had given me from my pocket. I wasn't a huge fan of the high tech gadgets they seemed to have everywhere in District Thirteen but I had learned enough to be able to operate this particular Communicator with no difficulties.

I simply spoke into it. "Connect me to Gale Hawthorn."

There were a few seconds of static and then Gale's voice came over the intercom. "Are you ready to be phased up into the hovercraft?"

I shook my head, but then realized that he couldn't see me. (Or maybe he could, chances are they had cameras fixed on me from the moment I hit the ground on the off chance that there was an air raid so they could get me out quickly.) "No, but can you come down here?"

Static greeted me and then: "Why?"

"You know what things are special to Primrose and Katniss' mother, I want to go into her house and take them back to District Thirteen for them."

"I'll be down in a moment, meet me outside."

I didn't bother to look around my house as I left, pulling the door shut behind me. It is cold outside. I pull my jacket tightly around my shoulders, thinking longingly of the Capitol designed coat that I wore for my first appearance on the Victory Tour the year before. District Thirteen has good supplies, but even their technology shrinks in comparison to the Capitol.

Gale rounds the side of the Everdeen household and acknowledges me with a curt nod. How I feel towards Gale is often conflicted. He is a brave man, for I know that he is the sole reason that any of District Twelve's inhabitants survived the bombing. But I'm also pretty sure he's the one who Katniss loves. Before the Games, I harboured a huge hatred for Gale, because I so often saw him with Katniss. Now, I simply don't have the energy to hate anyone for such petty reasons. It is not his fault that Katniss loves him instead of me. It is not his fault that I loved her for eleven years before I spoke to her. And it is not his fault that she was taken by the Capitol.

_I should never have let her go_. I should have stayed by her side every moment in the arena. This was another reason I still refused to be the Mockingjay. How could the Mockingjay inspire people when he had already abandoned those he loved? How could someone who was thought by the nation of Panem to have abandoned his wife and unborn child inspire that nation to fight back?

I push the crushing guilt aside. Breaking down now will do nothing but earn me a week lying sedated in a hospital bed. Instead, I walk as fast as I can towards Gale. His face cracks into a half smile.

"It's nice of you to do this for them."

I shrug. "I haven't done much for them. Bringing some of home to them is the least I can do… even if I couldn't bring her to them."

Gale makes no comment now and turns and opens the door, letting me pass in front of him into the entryway. The Victor's houses were made with identical plans, so it is essentially a copy of my own house. Katniss did not live here long, so her essence is nowhere to be found. Gale turns to me.

"Can you think of anything they'd want?"

"Only the book her father made." I tell him. "It's upstairs. I was hoping you could think of other things."

"I'll have a look around; I bet I can find some things."

Upstairs, I collect the book and head back downstairs. It has been a long time since I've had to descend stairs and while I don't go tumbling down them, I do find it a difficult feat after so long. Having a prosthetic leg is something I think I'll never get used to.

Gale appears in the entryway moments after I do. He holds a wedding photo and an old leather jacket which he tells me belonged to Katniss' father. We leave the Everdeen home, pulling the door closed behind us.

Suddenly, there's a loud meow. I whip around: coming towards us is the ugliest cat I have ever seen. Gale laughs and hands me the photo and jacket before leaning down and scooping up the cat.

"It's Buttercup." He explains, looking up at me and smiling. "It's Prim's cat. Katniss hated him."

I vaguely remember the ugly cat and Katniss' distain for him. "Should we take him back, too?"

Gale shrugs. "I don't see why not. Katniss would be pleased if they decided to cut him up for extra meat."

At this, Buttercup yowls and we call for the hovercraft.

When we get back to District Thirteen, we are crowded around by members of District Twelve who are desperate to know how our trip to their old home went. I leave Gale to their Q & A and go and find Mrs. Everdeen and Primrose in their compartment. They are surprised to see me, but admire the tokens of home I have brought them. Buttercup jumps up on Prim and starts purring immediately.

"I can't believe he made it." Mrs. Everdeen says, smiling at her daughter and their cat.

"From what I've heard, he's a pretty tough creature."

She nods and smiles at me. Her smile reminds me of Katniss'. My heart twists painfully as I remember that my father loved this woman, just as I love Katniss.

"Thank you, Peeta. You didn't have to bring any of this to us."

"It's the least I can do." I don't mention Katniss, but my apology is clear.

"There's nothing you could have done," She says, putting a hand on my shoulder, before turning back to Prim. "How are we going to feed him?"

"I'll make sure President Coin lets you keep him."

Their smiles are all the thanks I need. I tell them goodbye and turn and leave. I have nowhere to go now. Some of my friends from school have survived and live in District Thirteen, but no one can understand how I feel now. Haymitch and the other Victors could come close, but no one loved her like I did. No one knew her like I did.

With no real destination, I decide that the best place for me is in President Coin's offices. I make my way up there and find that the door is partly ajar and the room beyond it is dark.

"When did this air?" It is President Coin's voice.

"About twenty minutes ago." Plutarch replies.

"Show it to us, then. Maybe we can glean something from it."

_What's Haymitch doing in Command? _

I push the door open slightly. President Coin turns. Even in the dim light, her silver hair gleams. "What are you doing here?! Leave at once, you weren't asked to come up."

"Let him stay." Plutarch insists. "He's going to need to see this someday. And maybe it'll convince him that he should be the Mockingjay."

President Coin raises her eyebrows, but makes no further objection. Instead, she turns to one of her soldiers. "Turn it on."

The anthem of Panem plays and then there is a shot of cheering Capitol crowds. And then a face I know well appears on the screen: Caesar Flickerman the host for the Games. His hair is bright purple, matching his glittering suit. It is his responsibility to interview all the tributes before the Games and interview the Victor – or in my case, the Victor_s –_ following the Games' conclusion. It was during my interviews with him that I told Panem that I loved Katniss and that she was pregnant.

"Hello, hello!" He waves. "Today, we're here to celebrate someone you know very well. We saw her for the first time during the Seventy Fourth Hunger Games and now we see her again! Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Katniss Everdeen!"

I start to fall. Thankfully, there's a chair behind me that makes sure I don't go crashing to the floor. _Katniss Everdeen_?! I watch in bewilderment as the Girl on Fire enters from backstage. She is accompanied by two Peacekeepers, who hold her arms behind her back. Despite being restrained, Katniss walks proudly. I feel myself smiling: the Capitol hasn't taken her yet. Her hair is partly up and dotted with white roses. The dress she wears is fitted and grey and slightly off the shoulders. Her flat-heeled shoes are black. I think that it is likely that President Snow has chosen this outfit, making sure that none of it gives any hint of the Girl on Fire. It is a message that the fire has been stubbed out, leaving only ashes: grey ashes.

Katniss sits and the Peacekeepers retreat behind the stage. Katniss makes no attempt to escape, knowing that it would be impossible.

"Katniss, welcome back!" Caesar starts, but is met with a glare. I fight the urge to laugh. "So, how have you been finding your stay in the Capitol?"

"Well, if they weren't detaining me and asking me about things I don't know answers to, it'd be great." Her voice is flat and sarcastic.

"I'm sure they'll let you go!"

Katniss fixes him with a glare.

"Well, I hope you and your baby are being kept comfortable during your stay in the Capitol."

Katniss' expression becomes sad. "I lost the baby." While Katniss' voice was almost inaudible, the gasps from the audience are clearly audible. "It wasn't during the Games," She says quickly. "It… it was when the Arena was electrocuted… the shock did something. I lost it shortly after I arrived at the Capitol."

Caesar places his hand over hers. This time, she does not pull away. "We are so sorry. Does Peeta know?"

Apparently the Capitol is not aware that I am not with her in captivity. Katniss reaches this conclusion, too. "Not unless he's watching right now, he doesn't."

"Do you know where he is?"

Katniss shakes her head. "No."

"The rebels left you and took him?"

"Maybe they thought he'd be more complicit with their cause." Ouch, that comment stings a little, but then again, she has a point. Katniss is not one for following rules in any setting.

"If you could say anything to him right now, what would you say?"

Katniss fixes her eyes on the camera and for a moment, the people in the room, the screen and all the miles that must be between us disappear. I am one with the Girl on Fire. "I would tell him to be careful, no matter what he does." Her words are chosen carefully, no doubt because Snow is listening to every one of them. "Peeta, step carefully and don't trust easily: if you burn, we burn with you."

The screen goes blank.

"Is… is that it?" I think of how the Capitol cuts things they don't want us to see. I wonder what we're not being allowed to see: maybe the death of Katniss Everdeen, maybe her torture. I shy away from the thought. Haymitch shrugs.

"I'm pretty sure you know the answer to that. Snow won't like her reference to burning, that's for sure."

"He made pretty sure to snuff out her flame on that interview." I mutter, thinking of the dull grey dress and white roses.

"What do you think she was trying to tell you, Peeta?" Gale says, his voice is emotionless and I wonder what he has made of the interview.

I take a moment before I respond. What was Katniss trying to tell me? Was she trying to tell me to trust the rebels, even though she doesn't know who they are? Was she telling me not to trust the Capitol? _If you burn, we burn with you_. Her words echo in my mind and suddenly their meaning is very clear. The way she phrased her words, the way she spoke to me… it made me sound like a leader.

I look down, drawing a big breath and then meet the eyes of the room's occupants.

"She was telling me to be the Mockingjay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:**

Here's the second chapter. It's insane how much I'm enjoying writing this - I hope you all are enjoying it, too.

Please review!

Best wishes,

- VioletRose136

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

"Are you sure about this, Peeta?" President Coin is the first to speak. I nod without pausing to think.

"I'm sure." I reply. And I am sure. Sitting around and feeling sorry for myself isn't helping anyone. I feel a fire burn in my veins that I haven't felt in a long time. "It's time to get this thing started."

Plutarch doesn't waste a moment. "Peeta, come look at this."

I turn and see that he has produced a large leather book. I walk around to his side of the table and look down at it. I haven't seen anything like this before. I look up questioningly at him. "What is this?"

"Look at it." He insists. Without further questioning, I obey him. I flip the book open. Inside is a plan for armour. It is not hard to tell that the armour is meant for a female. The craftsmanship is so much like her wedding dress – and every other gown Katniss wore that I know without a doubt that this is Cinna – Katniss' designer – stylist's work. Scribbled on the bottom is one sentence.

_I'm still betting on you. _

I look up at Plutarch in confusion. "You… you want me to wear women's clothes?"

His eyes widen and he shakes his head viciously. "No, no. Turn the page; you'll see what we're after for you. Cinna and Portia didn't know whether or not it'd be you or Katniss or both of you who got rescued. They designed you armour as well."

Again, I obey him. Turning the page, there is a sketch of what is a copy of Katniss' armour, but minus the feminine touches. It is black and bulky, with sleeves that I notice are designed to look like wings. Once again, Cinna is turning someone into a bird. It is impressive and powerful. It is the uniform of someone who is a leader. I turn the page and find more detail about the design, detail and instructions which mean nothing to me and can only be deciphered by the eye of a skilled seamstress.

"Isn't it fabulous?" Plutarch is distressed by my lack of enthusiasm. "Beetee's also working on weaponry for you. He had the greatest idea yesterday, it's a prosthetic leg, but it's one that's electrical and designed to specifically help you run in a battle. I think he also wants to include some sort of weaponry in it… really, it's rather lucky that you lost your leg in the first Games because now we can—"

"All right, Plutarch, Peeta will have a chance to talk to Beetee about any of his developments later." President Coin cuts in. Apparently the idea of a violent prosthetic leg is uninteresting to her. She fixes her stony eyes on me. "What are your terms?"

I stumble. "My… terms?"

"For being the Mockingjay," Haymitch helpfully supplies. "What do you want in return from District Thirteen?"

"I… I want the Everdeen's to get to keep their cat."

President Coin looks at me like I've lost my mind. I could ask for anything and I ask for the safety of a cat? Thinking about it, I could understand her expression. "Okay, they can keep their cat. But he has to feed himself; we'll move them to apartments on the top floor."

_Think, Peeta, think. What should you ask for?_

"The safety of the Victors," I add quickly.

"Saving them from the Capitol would be a dangerous and perilous mission, Peeta." Plutarch reminds me, as if I haven't heard the same sentence a thousand times in the last month.

"No… if we get them back, I want them to be left alone. I want them granted immunity, no matter their crimes in the Capitol."

I cannot imagine a Victor being treated with anything less. Apparently, President Coin can. "But if they commit treason against us, we will have to give them a trial."

"No, you don't." I reply, my voice stronger than before. "They have suffered enough for one life, especially if they're being held by the Capitol right now. I want you to leave them alone."

She purses her lips and then nods. "Fine, all Victors will be treated with immunity, no matter their crime. However, if they commit a crime in District Thirteen, I reserve the right to punish them as is acceptable."

I guess that this will have to do. I nod as consent. "When we save the Victors being held by the Capitol – and we will – I want to be part of the team that goes."

"Absolutely not!" Haymitch breaks in. "Peeta, that mission will undoubtedly leave some members of District Thirteen dead. I will not have you be one of them."

I turn my attention to President Coin. "Haymitch is right: I am not consenting to anything that may result in your death."

I do not argue with this. "I want them saved." I repeat.

"If you comply with us, we will discuss a rescue mission."

"No, I want a mission commissioned."

She glares at me. I wonder if her glare has been known to turn people to stone. "Fine, you comply with us and I will allow a rescue mission. If you don't comply with us, there will be no mission. Am I understood?"

There is no way I can say no, so I nod. And if complying with these people will save Katniss from President Snow and the Capitol – it's the least I can do. "What are we going to do?"

"First, you have to train." Haymitch's directive makes President Coin shoot him an irritated glance. I don't think she likes him taking control. Secretly, I'm kind of into the idea. President Coin is so tight laced, she almost reminds me of Effie – minus the Capitol appearance and airs. I wonder what Effie's fate has been. Is she alive and in the Capitol? Did they kill her like they did Cinna? (Upon my arrival at District Thirteen, it was explained that Cinna had been arrested just before Katniss had entered the arena and had died while in custody. I didn't want to think about how he had died.)

President Coin nods. "You need to be a trained Solider, Peeta." Anyone over the age of fourteen is known as 'Solider' around here, even if they haven't done a day of training in their lives. Of course, that only applies to District Twelve arrivals – most of District Thirteen's natives have been fighting since they could walk.

I narrow my eyes. "I survived two Games; do you really think I could have done that without being able to fight?"

"You had Katniss with you." Haymitch reminds me. I shoot him a glare. It's not like I didn't fight myself. He knows that Cato would have killed Katniss after she had dropped the wasps on us and was delirious if I hadn't fought him. True, I'd sustained an injury that had almost killed me, but I would always maintain that my fighting had been pretty impressive, considering that my weapons had turned to rats in my hand.

"I know how to fight." I insist.

"That may be true." Plutarch allows. "But there are far more dangerous people out there than twenty four teenagers who want to kill you, Peeta."

He has a point.

After that, President Coin shows me a carefully detailed training plan that makes the one I devised before the Quarter Quell look like child's play. I stay until they dismiss me and Plutarch follows me out. I turn, knowing that he'll chase me all around the District if he has to in order to get my attention.

"Peeta, I wanted to show you something Beetee came up with."

"I thought he hadn't made the prosthetic leg yet." Suddenly I am exhausted. I am back at the Seventy Fourth Reaping and Effie is picking a different name and a different Tribute. None of this rests on my shoulders.

Plutarch is talking. "No, no. He's made a mock-up of that, though. I'm sure he'd be happy to show you if you asked." Really, the amount of interest I have in the idea rivals President Coin's enthusiasm for it, but I don't let this show. "I want to show you the weapon he has prepared for you."

"It's not a bow, is it?" I ask wryly, as we head towards the elevator which will take us down to where Beetee designs his weapons.

Plutarch laughs. "No, we're not trying to turn you into Katniss."

"You wanted her saved from the arena, didn't you?" The question slips out before I can stop it. "Instead of me," I add quickly, not wanting to let him escape with a, _"We wanted to save both of you." _excuse.

"Well, as you know… in a perfect situation, we would have lifted both of you out." _Yeah, that's great: but who did you WANT to save? _"Haymitch wanted you – well, sort of. His argument was that Katniss would have wanted it to be you. President Coin backed him up, I'm not sure why."

"And everyone else wanted to save Katniss." _Myself included. _

He shrugs. "It's nothing personal… people just saw her as the leader of the rebellion – not that you weren't important, too. But somehow, she seemed wilder."

I chuckle. "That's a good way to put it." And the best part is that he's right: Katniss was wild. Katniss was the one who pretended to love me in the first Games and all the time afterwards. I was never lying to the Capitol about how much I loved her. I followed her lead when it came to defying the Capitol. The sad part is that Katniss' only goal was survival: she never wanted to start a rebellion. Or had it been survival? There was no doubt in my mind that Katniss had intended to take the Nightlock with me – she wouldn't have pretended to take it and then let me die. She was too… she was not devoid of immorality, but there is a strange certainty in me that she would have died with me. Maybe it wouldn't have been FOR me, but she would not have let me die… she would not have become a lone Victor.

Plutarch looks relieved that I'm not angry that they wanted Katniss instead. We board the elevator and go down several floors. And then Plutarch leads the way through to a room where Beetee sits, working intently on a sketch. At our arrival, he starts and turns around in his wheelchair. If I'm correct, as soon as he was well enough, District Thirteen put him down here designing weapons.

"Ah, Peeta… long time no see." Beetee says, holding out his hand for me to shake.

This is hardly true, considering I see him at almost every meal, but I don't mention this. Instead, I meet his hand and shake it firmly.

That is something my father always taught me: firm handshakes show that a man is sure of himself and not afraid. I miss my father. Out of my whole family, it was safe to say that I loved him the most. My mother was cruel and thoughtless, rarely offering a kind word and gaining my love out of an unspoken rule that children must love their parents. Henry, my eldest brother gained her cruelty and so I avoided him whenever I could. Nathaniel, who was only a year older than me did not gain it, but suffered more than any of us did. Henry and I both inherited our father's stocky, muscled build. Nathaniel was slight and tall, weaker than Henry or me and so hauling around bags of flour and doing all the other jobs our mother presented us was hard for him and so often he received the worst of her abuse.

Now is not the time to mourn, however and so I push thoughts of my family away, as I have countless other times and smile at Beetee.

"What do you have to show me?"

"Well, two things: one is the weapon I want you to use and the other is—"

"A prosthetic leg that moonlights as a weapon," I finish for him.

He looks surprised. "Are you stalking me?"

I indicate Plutarch with my head. "He's pretty excited about it."

Beetee smiles, "I'd expect him to be. It's him who came up with the idea in the first place… I only designed it."

I try to hide my horror. "What weapon do you want me to use?"

"A machine gun," Beetee says and wheels himself over to a metal cabinet. "Well, simply a machine gun. It only will fire if you tell it to fire so it can't be used against you."

"Impressive."

"Would you like to see a sketch of it?"

In truth, I'd rather see the actual thing. "You haven't built it yet?"

"It's half built. I'll need to record your voice so I can install the voice recognition."

I'm more excited about looking at the sketch of the machine gun than I was about looking at my armour. So when Beetee rolls it out in front of me, I'm quick to lean over it. It's a state of the art gun, the kind carried by warriors in the Capitol. When it's built, it will be silver and about two feet long. Beetee is a little concerned about its weight, but I remind him that four of the eight points I scored in the first Games revolved around the ability to throw around massive amounts of weight (the other four were related to my ability to paint myself into a tree, but I don't share this information) and that while I'd like something easy to carry, I can live with something on the heavier side.

Plutarch is almost quivering with excitement when Beetee rolls up the plans for the machine gun and brings down the one for the prosthetic leg. And when I look over the sketch, my conclusion is that Plutarch is mad and that Beetee is a genius. The thing has been engineered to take electrical impulses from the brain the same way a real leg could. Except this leg is fireproof and can shoot fireballs as well as bullets.

Like I said: insanity and a large intellectual ability work well together.

I leave Plutarch and Beetee shortly after that. I don't see a point in staying. I take the elevator up to the floor where the dining hall is located. I haven't yet had lunch: I hope that there's still something left. Thankfully, there is although it doesn't look that appetizing. Stew and some sort of vegetable: great.

My name is called as soon as I turn away from the servers. "Peeta, come here!" Dreading another run in with Plutarch or someone like him, I turn around and find relief when I see that it is Delly Cartwright who is calling me. Delly has been my friend since childhood and has become an even closer friend since I landed in Thirteen. Seeing her is one of the few things I don't mind.

I go and sit by her, setting my tray down. She offers me a smile which I return. Delly is one of the few people who can get a smile out of me these days. Like me, she lost her parents in the bombing of District Twelve but her little brother, Jules survived. The event left her traumatised, though. At first, she ate little, resulting in her thin figure now.

"How are you?" She asks, taking a bite of the stew.

I shrug. "I agreed to be the Mockingjay." I say in an offhand way, as if I am delivering a piece of news which I am fairly sure has been heard before.

Apparently this news has not been heard before. Delly chokes and stares at me. "You… you're the Mockingjay?!"

"Katniss was interviewed by Caesar Flickerman." I say in a low voice, so that no one around me will hear. "She… what she said made me think she wants me to do it."

"And what did she say?" Delly bites the side of her lip and tilts her head curiously.

"She said: _if you burn, we burn with you._" Delly's face lacks understanding, so I elaborate. "It… the way she said it – it made it sound as if I was leading everyone and so… I agreed to lead everyone."

"_You're_ going to lead a rebellion?"

I laugh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence!"

"No, no… I didn't mean—" Delly shakes her head. "I'm just—all of this has been a lot to take in. District Twelve being gone… and Katniss being held captive by the Capitol. Do you think we'll ever get her back?"

This is straying into a topic I don't like. "I don't know." I say shortly. "I suppose they're going to need her if they want to go anywhere with this star-crossed-lovers thing."

Delly purses her lips. "They could have planned it better," She says, "They could have planned it so that they could have gotten you all out. Surely, they knew how dangerous letting any of you being taken by the Capitol could be. I'm surprised that Katniss was so silly, though."

Immediately, I am put on the defensive. "Silly?"

"_If we burn, you burn with us_." Delly says and then realizing she said it wrong shrugs and pushes it away with a wave of her hand. "Or whatever she said, it could have very well cost Katniss her life, you know."

_No! _I shake my head. "There's no way she's dead." I say firmly, needing to believe it if I'm to live another day.

Delly doesn't push the matter. "They need to get her and the others out of the Capitol." She replies, before taking her tray and returning it to the kitchens and once again, I am left alone with my thoughts.

Later, in my compartments as I am drifting off to sleep, Delly's words come back to me: was it stupid of Katniss to speak outwardly for the rebellion? _Did _those simple words cost Katniss her life? Were those words really worth her life? Was that Mockingjay dress worth Cinna's life? Was making the Games slightly easier for Katniss worth Mags' life? That line of questioning is endless.

Her words spoke of inadvertently of rebellion. The way Delly turned them around echoes in my head: if we burn, you burn with us. If you burn, we burn with you. Both have the same meaning, both allude to the downfall of the Capitol and Panem. I remember the first time the idea of the Capitol falling seemed very real: it was at the beginning of the Victory Tour, when I stood in the dome of the Justice Building with Haymitch and Katniss. For the first time it occurred to me that the Capitol might not be the impenetrable power it appeared to be. For the first time, it seemed possible that the nation of Panem could fall to rebellion.

A rebellion I am supposed to lead.

"Oh Katniss," I whisper to the darkness. "What on earth have you gotten us into?"


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

Twelve days pass after that, making it forty two days since I have left the Arena and forty two days since I have last seen Katniss.

The twelve days are spent practically breathing military training. At first, running with my fake leg was an awkward task, which rarely failed to see me sprawled on the ground (the only times this didn't happen were times when my adrenaline level had been high enough to override the fact that it was fake and drove my brain into the realization that my survival depended on the ability to move it without falling over) but through training with Katniss and Haymitch before the Quarter Quell, in the same way I learned to walk with it, I'd learned to run.

But even with my relative ease with my prosthetic limb, the first week of military training is _hard_. President Coin's officers are no strangers to the task of training people to be lethal. It's my taste of what it would have been like to be born into District One or Two, where Careers exist. And for once, I'm grateful that I was born into a District that didn't insist on training people for the Games.

Some of it is theory: knowing how to set off a grenade and being able to assemble and disassemble a gun with relative ease. Other parts are less physical: perfecting the ability to hit any target at any range whether or not it's moving. There's some hand-to-hand combat, which I was happy that I still managed to excel in (wrestling was my strength in sports during school) and then there's the really physical stuff. Like I said, I could run with my prosthetic leg, no problem. But being able to run and being able to climb ropes, jump over six foot walls and crawl under netting which sparked you if you touched it all within five minutes are two entirely separate things. And at first, I wasn't so good at it.

But, you have to learn to walk before you can learn to run… and you had to learn to run before you could learn how to avoid sharp spark-inducing netting. Tomas, the solider put in charge of evaluating my training even put me into a teaching position, showing younger members of District Twelve how to throw around an opponent. I did my best to make sure that the conditions were safe, but some people did end up in the Infirmary with sprained wrists and ankles.

It is the evening of the twelfth day and yet again, I find myself wandering. It's the one thing I do in District Twelve that isn't stamped onto my arm every morning. Wandering is a relief: it's the one time where I don't have to pretend to be anything but completely devastated at the hand which life has dealt me. Is Katniss dead? Probably her words mean that she is dead. Plutarch told me that they executed my prep team live yesterday. He told me that they're executing anyone who has the slightest link to Katniss Everdeen… or to me, for that matter. Someone told me that Katniss' prep team made it to District Thirteen, minus Cinna. Gale told me that they had been punished for stealing food and that he had ordered their release. President Coin was hard to convince, but eventually let them go.

Sometimes, it's hard to find humility.

There is an hour before dinner and half an hour before President Coin wants to discuss an action plan. (Apparently twelve days enough to prepare someone for a full out war: I don't know, I've never been in a war.) And so I decide to go to the Infirmary, to check on Katniss' prep team and talk to Finnick.

The shock in the Arena did something to Finnick, because since we arrived in District Thirteen, he isn't quite right. Mostly, he stays in the Infirmary and ties knots with a length of rope that's too short for him to make a noose out of. All he can speak of is saving Annie Cresta and to him, nothing else matters. That's something I can relate to. If people knew how much I actually thought about saving Katniss, I'd probably be right next to him tying knots. The difference for him is that once he is reunited with Annie, his happy ending is handed to him. Saving Katniss won't make her love me. Or love me the way I want her to.

I'm brought back to that kiss on the beach, the one kiss that didn't feel staged: the kiss that was simply a kiss and not a strategy for survival or a performance. In my memory, the kiss lives simply as an intimate moment between two people who care about each other. Was that kiss a beginning? What would have happened if Katniss had been taken to District Thirteen with me? Maybe pressure on the Capitol would be big enough so that we both could have won. I shake my head, clearing the thought. The Capitol wanted her dead and probably wanted me dead, too.

The Infirmary is relatively empty when I push open the door. I make my way to Finnick, who as usual is sitting cross-legged on his bed with his length of rope. He looks up and smiles at my approach and holds up his latest knot.

"A lily knot," He explains, before I've reached him. "It's a water-lily knot, if we're being precise."

I perch on the end of his bed. "It looks like a lily." I say, because there's nothing else you can say about a knot. Earnestly, I can't really see any resemblance to the flower, but I don't mention this. "How are you, Finnick?"

He shrugs. "Annie didn't think this looked like a lily. She didn't like lilies that much because of an old wives tale that they represented death. She liked tulips, though."

"Tulips are nice," I say (again, because there's not much else to say).

"I hate the Capitol," He says and I nervously look around to make sure no one has heard before I remember that we are in a place where that is the feeling regarding the Capitol.

"We'll get Annie back." I assure him. And we will… once President Coin allows a mission to the Capitol to save the captives. And that will happen once she's decided that I'm performing well enough as the Mockingjay that it's worth risking some of her own to save people she doesn't think are worth saving. She has her Mockingjay: why would she need anyone else?

"No… it's not just her." Finnick shrugs at my confused expression. "President Snow has been President for a long time."

I think back, trying to remember if I can recall the year he became the President. I can't. "Yeah," I say, "He has. D'you think he'll ever drop dead?"

"He will when we kill him… or when the poison finally takes him down."

"Poison?"

"Sure… it's how he stays President… because whoever threatens him is poisoned by him. But he always drinks some of whatever is poisoned himself so he's not a suspect. There's an antidote, but it doesn't always work. It's why he's so obsessed with roses; they keep away the smell of blood which he coughs up."

Considering I've been a participant in two Games, you wouldn't think that that statement would make me feel as nauseous as it actually did.

"How do you know that?"

He grins. "I forgot: it was Katniss who I told."

"Told her what?"

"People never paid for my services with money, they paid for them with secrets."

I don't ask what kind of 'services' he's talking about. I can make a pretty accurate guess. That's not to say I think that President Snow personally used Finnick… but those who issued the antidote probably did. I stayed for a little while longer and then left, making my way to Command for the first meeting. When I arrive, a few of President Coin's officers who I don't know are present. Aside from the President, the people who I do know are Gale, Plutarch and Haymitch.

"Welcome to our little meeting, Peeta!" I would seriously pay to see Plutarch in a bad mood because this is getting exhausting. He directs me to a chair and then quiets in order for the President to begin speaking.

"Your training should be sufficient enough for you to defend yourself against any sudden attacks, not that we plan for there to be any." She shoots an unexplained glare in Haymitch's direction. "We want to do some of the initial filming for the propaganda here in District Thirteen."

I understand at once. "You mean that you want me to be safe at home in District Thirteen and not be able to fight?"

"That's what I originally wanted." She allows. "But some people—" A second glare is shot at Haymitch. "—believe that it will be more _effective _if we get some actual footage of you in the rebelling Districts. Of course, we all agree that you won't be sent into battle, especially with your impairment." I decide not to point out that the leg she nods at is the one that's real. Haymitch notes her mistake and smirks at me behind her back.

It occurs to me that President Coin must know that my progress in training is beyond sufficient so far and that my 'impairment' has very little to do with her decision. They don't want me in battle because they can't take the risk of me getting killed because without me there's no one to use as a figurehead and without a figurehead… they must think that the rebellion will fall. I suddenly wonder if I have more influence than I originally thought.

"Right," I say, suddenly realizing that she is expecting me to say something. "My… impairment…"

"President, don't be ridiculous!" Plutarch cuts in. "I'm fairly sure that if the boy can manage himself in The Games with an impairment like the one he has that he can manage himself in battle."

She purses her lips. "We are not sending the Mockingjay into any active sites."

"So… you are planning to send me into a site?"

She nods stiffly. "It was felt by some that along with the propaganda, there needed to be some real things in there. You visiting wounded victims and viewing damage. It is thought that those will inspire hope in other Districts that have experienced similar disasters."

She has a point. "And when are we going to save the captives?" I ask at once. My conversation with Finnick has made me want a date. It has occurred to me that they could just keep dangling the promise in front of me and never actually act on it. Or they could act on it when it's too late and return with Katniss' corpse.

President Coin purses her lips again. "I have already told you that this will occur once you comply with being the Mockingjay."

"And I intend on complying with everything you need me to do." I reply smoothly. "But how am I supposed to know that you're actually going to do it?" It occurs to me that accusing the President of bad intent could be dangerous, but I can't shut up. "I don't, do I? And you can't expect me to trust you. You don't even fully trust me. We're just two people who want to free Panem from Snow's dictatorship and who are willing to work together. Trust doesn't even enter into it. If I'm going to be your Mockingjay, I want to know when Katniss and the others are going to be saved."

President Coin sighs. Boggs, her right-hand man who seemed completely and utterly devoted to her looks surprised. "He's smart, President." He says. "Why should he trust us?"

"Why?!" President Coin spits. "We saved him from the arena! He would be being tortured right now if we hadn't!"

"And Katniss is probably being tortured right now." I reply flatly. "President Coin: please understand that I'm not trying to question your authority. And I want to be your Mockingjay: but I want you to set a date. Tell me when you're going to save Katniss and the others from the Capitol."

She looks around, as if hoping for backup. When none comes, she turns to me and says. "After your first appearance as the Mockingjay: if you do well and your performance is convincing, I will send a group to the Capitol to save Katniss and the others. Does that work for you?"

I think she'll shoot me on the spot if I say no, so I nod. "Yeah: it works for me." Really, all I want is to hold Katniss in my arms again. I want her to love me the way I love her, irrevocably and unconditionally. But having her back and out of the Capitol's reach comes as a close second.

They tell me that they have decided to send me to District Eight to meet with the wounded so they can shoot something they hope the rebels will like. They also tell me that they want to shoot a propaganda like thing in a filming room in Thirteen tomorrow. And then they let me go.

Delly finds me almost immediately after I leave Command. Delly is becoming more and more interrogated into my day-to-day life. Her presence is comforting. We've been friends since childhood when we were paired together in a Reading class. Forcing five year olds to spell Delly Cartwright and Peeta Mellark is beyond cruel and we'd – or rather _she'd _responded appropriately, throwing her book on the floor and throwing a fit until our teacher decided that it just wasn't worth it to make us spell our whole names.

We've been friends ever since.

"Hi," She says, linking her arm through mine. I smile down at her – it's impossible to feel sad around Delly.

"How was your day?"

She shrugs, but she smiles. "I'm finally training to be a solider. D'you think President Coin will let me join your squad?"

I laugh. "She doesn't want even want me to be in a squad, so probably not. Apparently my 'impairment' is too much to be allowed into a battle." I roll my eyes, but say nothing more.

Delly furrows her eyebrows. "That's hardly fair of her."

I shake my head. "Fairness doesn't come into it at all, anymore. This is a war."

"Fairness is what'll win us the war."

I think she's totally full of it, but I don't say this. "All's fair in love and war."

"Where'd you hear that?"

"I don't know a school English class."

She reaches down and clasps my hand in her own. "D'you want to go back to my compartment? We've got awhile before dinner."

I'm about to respond when Gale comes running down the corridor. "Peeta! Peeta, there you are. Come back to Command right now!"

I shoot a confused look at Delly, she knows nothing and so her look mirrors mine. I look back at Gale. "Why?"

"Because… Katniss is live again." He stops in front of me, breathing heavily. "She's live, she's being interviewed."

I take off running down the corridor, next to Delly. It takes all of five minutes to get back to Command. I push the doors open so that they slam against the walls, undoubtedly leaving marks, but I don't pause to look. I'm a crazed man, suddenly seeing the sun. I look around, my heart pounding. _Katniss_, _Katniss_, _Katniss_…

President Coin is looking at me and then turns to Boggs. "Rewind the tape."

The next few minutes are taken in through shots and still frames. Caesar Flickerman, Katniss' entrance. This time, they've barely tried to dress her up. She's clean and her hair is brushed but beyond that, they've quit trying. She wears black trousers and a loose blue top that fails to hide how much weight she's lost. She looks starved. She moves as if she is seventy and not seventeen. What have they done to her?! No one can change that much… deteriorate that much in twelve days.

I cannot listen to the opening pleasantries. I only really focus when my name is spoken. "And do you know where Peeta is? Has he tried to contact you?"

Katniss smirks. "Why would he? He's leading a rebellion. He's far too busy for me."

"But of course he wouldn't forget about you, his own wife."

Her laugh is devoid of any humour. "I was his wife in practice Caesar, but not yet by law."

"We all saw that he loved you a lot." Caesar prompts, getting another emotionless smile out of Katniss. I feel sick.

_I do love you a lot. _

"He did love me. But he loves the idea of rebellion more," She sits back in her chair, looking thoughtful. "I hope he knows who he's dealing with, I hope they aren't moulding him like a child moulds mud or like he moulded that dough when we were little… the boy with the bread!" Her laugh boarders on insane and I grip the counter hard, trying not to fall. "ARE YOU LISTENING, PEETA?" She screeches. Peacekeepers enter onto the stage. "You're an idiot! All of you! Thinking you're safe in District Thirteen because it's underground… you'll be dead by tomorrow!"

The camera is knocked sideways. Katniss is dragged off the stage and screams are heard. Her screams. And then there's the sound of a crash and blood splatters the edge of the camera. Her blood. And I am sick where I stand. I can't think and I can't hear: there is a loud buzzing in my ears. Hands grab at me and I evade them as I stumble out of Command and into the hallway. I hear what sounds like my name behind me but I cannot stop running. There are footsteps beside me. I fight the bile in the back of my throat, threatening to rise at any moment. The taste of vomit is new in my mouth. My leg fails me and I crash to the floor.

This time I don't try to get up, I feel hands on me and I am being lifted. "No!" I yell at the offending hands. "Let me go, just let me go! Let me go! Just let me…" There is a sharp jab in my neck. Suddenly blackness pools over my vision. I fight against it, but I am powerless.

I sink into a black world where there is no pain.

"Peeta?"

My name is the first thing I hear. My head is pounding. I groan. The voice comes again.

"Peeta, can you hear me?"

I open my eyes. I am not in the hospital where I expected to be but in a compartment that is similar to my own. Delly's face looms in front of my vision. "I… what happened?"

"Katniss was interviewed again," Suddenly, the horrible bloody images push at my mind. I gasp and grip the sheets. I feel as if I am drowning. "And you didn't take it that well… they sedated you."

It comes flooding back to me now. I groan and fall back against the pillow. "Oh no, she's dead, isn't she?"

"We don't know." Delly replies and pats my forehead with a damp cloth. "We don't know but I hope she isn't."

She can't be dead. A part of me would know if she were. I refuse to consider it. What are they doing to her in the Capitol? What did they do to her in those twelve days?! And then it occurs to me. They could have done her first interview a day after she arrived at the Capitol – and then done whatever they wanted to her since.

"Oh God," I feel bile rising up in my throat again. "Oh God, they could be doing anything to her."

"Shh." Delly pats the cloth around my face. "Shh, don't think about it now. You can't afford to breakdown like you did. You're the Mockingjay; we need you."

I take a deep breath and lean into Delly's hand and close my eyes. "Why am I here? I thought they would take me to hospital."

She shakes her head. "I convinced them that you'd be okay once you woke up. They didn't want you to wake up alone, though."

The words bring a smile to my face. I open my eyes and gaze up at her. She is rather pretty, leaning forward with her blond curls falling all around her heart-shaped face. "I'm glad I didn't." I murmur.

It is impossible to know who began the kiss. One moment she was playing my nurse, leaning over me, her cascading blond curls falling all about as if they are her own golden waterfall and then other she is kissing me. Or I am kissing her. I don't know. It is a nice kiss. The smell of soap washes over me. It is very different to Katniss' smell which is sweet but sharp. Katniss' smell is of spring and of fire. Delly's is of soap and incense. The smell is easy to ignore as Delly shifts slightly so she can increase the kiss's intensity. I rise up on my elbows to meet her.

And then suddenly the compartment and Delly are gone and the ground is rough beneath my elbows. There is a sharp pain in my thigh, but for the moment is easy to ignore. I am in another place. I am with another girl. It is The Games and death feels almost imminent, I am surrounded by blood and death and the horrible smell of my own smothering flesh. But none of that matters, all that matters is her: Katniss: the Girl on Fire. It is our first kiss: my first kiss. Is it hers? I don't know. Gale Hawthorne could have taken it already. It is sweet and wonderful and it tastes of blood.

Her words play in my mind: _you'll be_ _dead by tomorrow!_ Why did they punish her for her mad words? How was that aiding the rebellion? If anything it was defusing it, unless… I jerk away from Delly. She looks at me, wide-eyed.

"Peeta? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Where's Coin?" I demand, standing up. She stands with me, putting her hands on my shoulders.

"Peeta: what's wrong?"

"Why would they punish her for her words?" I say, pacing the length of her compartment. "Why would they punish her for them? Unless… unless it was a warning."

Delly's eyes widen in understanding. "You mean—"

I nod. "The Capitol is going to attack District Thirteen: tonight."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

Delly looks at me in shock: "You can't be—"

Something in my expression makes her fall silent. "Think, Delly!" I insist, grabbing her shoulders. "How could _you'll be dead by tomorrow _be worth that kind of punishment unless it's a warning? If anything it's trying to deflate hope for the rebels!"

Delly doesn't question me again. She pales. "Oh my God, Peeta – we have to tell someone, we have to save everyone."

For the second time that day, I'm running through the corridors. My body hasn't quite escaped from the effect of the sedative, but I force my muscles to work for me. How long has it been since Katniss' interview? How long do we have until the attack? I run into Boggs in front of Command. He looks posed to attack, regarding me with an expression most commonly used with a rabid animal which one wishes to euthanize.

"You have to let me talk to Coin." I insist.

He crosses his arms and tilts his head. "And why should I do that? You're supposed to be resting."

Resting sounds like a great idea right now. Running in my drugged haze has hardly been an easy feat and it's all I can do to not crash on the ground in front of him. Delly catches up to us. "Listen to him, sir." She insists. "Let him through to see the President, it could save all of us if you do."

He looks between us and eventually decides that we're not complete lunatics. Ordering us to stay outside, he disappears inside Command. A minute later, he returns with Haymitch. I'm still not used to seeing Haymitch so regularly – District Thirteen has a strict prohibition on alcohol and so for the first few weeks we were here, he was in the Infirmary suffering from withdrawal. Now, he still looks thin and drawn and somewhat sleepless, but his roughness is back and there's light in his eyes again.

Now, those steel eyes are fixed on me. "What do you want, Sleeping Beauty?" He demands. His words rub me a little, but I ignore it and repeat what I have said to Delly to Haymitch and Boggs.

"It's a warning," I insist. "Think about it, her words are calling for a cease fire! They're speaking out against the rebels and calling for even MY death. Snow could only be upset if it was a warning!"

Haymitch bites the inside of his cheek. "Come in," He says and opens the door slightly. "President, I think you need to listen to this."

Ten minutes later I'm in Command. They are scanning the sky nearby for any incoming threat. There is talk of sending a hovercraft up but then it is dismissed. Someone remembers that I haven't eaten and brings me dinner. It's some sort of stew and a brown liquid that tastes like it could have been coffee in another life. It doesn't matter because all of it is tasteless as I gulp it down.

And then they find it.

"Ma'am," One of the men at the computers says, rolling back his chair and looking at President Coin. "We have detected an unidentified aircraft."

She doesn't pale. "Bring everyone down to the bomb shelters."

There is a blur of activity and someone claps me on the back, congratulating me for my deduction of Katniss' meaning. I'm blind and deaf to everything and everyone: the only thing that matters is getting down to the bomb shelter. Someone grabs my arm. It's Haymitch. He drags me into a corridor that's abandoned.

"Stay calm and stay strong." He orders.

"What?"

"You have to stay calm… people will look to you to see how to react. If you're calm, they'll be calm. If you lose it, they'll lose it."

"I… what?"

"You're the Mockingjay, Peeta. It's time to act like it." He says, before turning and hurrying down another corridor.

I look around for Delly, unsure of what's happened to her. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. District Thirteen is under attack. I follow the crowd down several levels to the bomb shelter. It's a low, long space buried deep into the earth, some of it is metal and some of it is stone. I'm directed to part E section 23.

Section 23 is fairly uninteresting. It's a four foot by four foot square on the floor that has a bunk bed sunk into the wall and a place for storage. I sit down on one of the bunks but soon find that I can't stay in one place for long. I'm helping people find their sections and get settled. Along the way, someone tells me about packs which people are supposed to be picking up. I spend another twenty minutes picking the packs up and distributing them. The mood of the occupants of Thirteen is afraid but strong – the mood I have forced out. Is it me causing this?

Almost all of Thirteen is down in the bunkers by the time I return to my own section with my own pack of sheets and other supplies. By some miracle, Delly and her brother have gotten the section to the left of me and Primrose and Mrs. Everdeen the one on my right. Primrose is curled up on the bottom bunk, clutching their cat in her arms. Mrs. Everdeen has already changed into the white medic's outfit and is going around E, making sure that no one needs her assistance.

Delly is sitting on the floor, leaning up against one of the bunks. Gabble, her brother is curled up against her. Gabble is only about eight. He clings to his sister and his eyes are big and wide as he watches the movement around him. I glance around, making sure that there's nothing pressing for me to help with and go over to them. Delly looks up at me and smiles as I sit beside them, adjusting my fake leg as I sit.

"Hey." She says, as I settle.

"Hi, are you okay?"

She shrugs. "I could be better, but at least Katniss told us."

"And you, Gabe?" I ask her brother. "How're you?"

He sniffs. "Are we going to die?"

"Come here," I take his hands in my own, coaxing him away from his sister's arms. I lean forward so that my eyes are level with his. "We're not going to die. We're going to be okay. There might be some loud noises and it might seem pretty frightening, but it'll stop and we'll be okay. Being down here means we're going to be okay. It's a safe spot."

"They bombed District Twelve and no one was safe there."

"District Twelve didn't have a safe place like this." He's looking away and so I squeeze his hands lightly. "Look at me, Gabble." When he does, I take a deep breath. "We're going to be okay. Do you understand?"

He nods and then hugs me. Over the top of his head, Delly mouths 'thank you'.

There's just enough time for President Coin to come over the intercom and remind everyone that this is not a drill and that Katniss Everdeen, the District Twelve Victor has warned of an impending attack on the District and then the first bomb hits. Gabble screeches and ducks into my chest. The glaring lights go off and there are sounds of shrieks and insane laughter.

A moment later, the dull back-up lights come on. And another bomb hits. The entire place shakes. Delly joins Gabble and I wrap my arms around them both, holding them close as the bombs fall and wondering what kind of horrible memories this is bringing back. I look over to Primrose and Mrs. Everdeen. Primrose looks over at me and I mouth 'okay?' and she smiles and nods, burying her face into their cat's fur.

What did that kiss with Delly mean? Does she expect something from me now? At the moment, I don't think I'm capable of feeling anything for anyone but Katniss. I've been shown how overpowering the Capitol's power is and how they can easily pluck away anyone you care about. Loving Katniss has exposed me to that kind of torment: how could I possibly let someone else in? I understand Haymitch's decision to be alone: the pain of solitude was less than the pain of having the ones you loved constantly placed in liberty by the Capitol.

There is not long to think about it. Eventually, Gabble falls asleep with his resting on my lap. The lights are dimmed further so people can sleep. Delly leans up and kisses me before climbing into the first bunk. I don't know if she falls asleep. I don't check.

_Berries! Thank God. There's something decent to eat. I quickly begin to gather them and then take off my jacket and lay it on the forest floor so I can gather enough for a meal. I don't eat them. My stomach rumbles as I picture the meal Katniss and I will put together with these berries. We won't need a meal from the Capitol. _

_It is silent, the heat hotter than before. _

_Suddenly, a canon goes off. My heart stops. I drop the berries in my hand to the ground and start running towards the sound. And then another canon and then another. Katniss is dead, Katniss –_

I jerk awake. I am still in the bunker and the sound I have heard is not the canon but bombs. Delly is awake. She touches my shoulder and I turn to look at her.

"Do you want to sleep? I'll stay awake for him."

I shake my head. "It's okay. Do you want to put him in the bunk?"

She nods and I slide Gabble off me carefully so that I don't disturb him. Then, I stand and lean down to take him up into my arms again. By now Delly has vacated the bottom bunk and pulls back the blanket so I can tuck her brother into the sheets that are still warm. She tucks the blanket around him and kisses his forehead. And then she joins me back on the floor.

I look over to Primrose and Mrs. Everdeen, glad to see that they are both tucked up into their bunks. "What do you think they did to her?" I ask Delly, not meeting her eyes. "What do you think they'll do to her?"

"Isn't it obvious?"

I look up at her. "Is what obvious?"

"The Capitol wants you: without you there's no rebellion and they can compress the Districts again. And so they'll do whatever it takes to break you so that you'll surrender."

I close my eyes and lean back against the wall. "There's a fat chance of that happening, I can't even get to the Capitol to surrender, even if I wanted to. I can't fly a hovercraft." My voice is soft. No one more than a few feet away could tell what I am saying.

"You could find a way." She said softly.

I don't reply. There's nothing to say.

We spend four days in the bunker. For three, there are bombings. Primrose entertains everyone by breaking out a game she claims Katniss came up with years ago called Crazy Cat. It's not much of a game because all it involves is moving a flashlight around on the floor and watching their cat – who Primrose reminds me, is named Buttercup – chase it. But there's not much entertainment down in the bunkers and watching their cat chase after a light distracts me from my thoughts.

My thoughts (when I can't be distracted, like when Delly and Gabble are sleeping) usually revolve around what the Capitol might be doing to Katniss while I sit here, completely and utterly helpless in District Thirteen. It is in the middle of the night on the third night that I stand and creep over to Finnick's safety zone.

He's sitting up playing with his rope by the narrow light his safelight offers.

"It's what they're doing to you by keeping Annie, isn't it?" I ask softly, sitting on the bunk beside him.

"Hmm?"

"They're trying to break you by keeping her. You wouldn't have told her anything about the rebellion, would you?"

Finnick sighs and closes his eyes. "No, I wouldn't have… and yes, they are. I know they're hurting her and there's nothing I can do about it. But how do they expect me to help the Capitol? There is no way that I can assist them."

In many ways, what Finnick is going through seems crueller. I can help Katniss by breaking but what can Finnick do? If he falls, no one will suffer for it. I close my eyes and nod. Closing my eyes blocks out the world and makes it easier to pretend that this is all just a bad dream: a bad dream.

"Reality isn't much better than dreaming anymore, is it?" Finnick asks. I open my eyes and look at him.

"You have nightmares, too?"

"We all do." Finnick laughs softly. "I volunteered, you know. I was a Career."

"Yeah, I know."

"It seemed like such an honour at the time, volunteering for this and being good enough to win. But… being lethal doesn't prepare you for your first kill and it doesn't prepare you for your last. You don't know what it's like to watch someone die when you go in. You just know that a series of acts should kill them." He sighs. "And afterwards, you can't forget your first kill. You can't forget your last. You will never forget what it's like to watch someone die… and no one warns you. No one tells you what the Games will to do you or what the Capitol will do to you if you win."

I know exactly what he means, just as I knew exactly what Katniss meant when she said she hated my paintings. She hadn't been saying that they were bad or that I lacked talent: she had been saying that she hated the reminder. I hadn't run from the Cornucopia. I had stayed and killed. I had made alliances with the Careers so that Katniss would be safe. I had led them away from her.

I was always protecting her.

I stay with Finnick a little longer, before getting up and walking back to my own section, past Delly and Gabble. I settle down on my bunk and pull the blanket around me. I close my eyes but I don't sleep for a long time. Long after the Games, it is hard for me to fall asleep, worrying that I might not wake up again.

It is mid-morning when the twenty four hours without a bombing are through. We are released from the bunkers. Gabble is not even awake yet and Delly decides not to wake him. She leaves with him, going with the civilians back up to the living section of District Thirteen. Finnick finds me again – there is something comforting about him, another Victor and another person who knows exactly how it feels to have your heart and soul kept by the Capitol – and it is just after he does that Gale comes and directs us to a room that looks almost exactly like Command.

President Coin, Plutarch, Boggs and Haymitch as well as a few others are already situated. Katniss' prep team are there and there are people I have not seen before. The sharp smell of coffee is in the air, reminding me of home. Finnick immediately requests some of it for the two of us and Plutarch sends for it. Once a steaming cup of coffee is pressed into my hand, President Coin begins to speak.

"The Capitol needs to know as soon as possible that you are alive, Peeta." President Coin says in her usual no-nonsense way. She is so put together that no one would have thought that her entire District was just bombed. "There was recently a bombing in District Eight – we want to send you there today. Of course, before you go we want to shoot a promo to premiere tonight. We want you to look bruised and bloodied, which is where Katniss' prep team and your camera crew come in." She indicates the group of people who I don't know. Upon closer inspection, I note that they are Capitol rebels. They have that polished note about them that screams Capitol, but the polish is tarnished somehow and does not gleam as much as I remember.

Following a bath, I'm suited up in Cinna's Mockingjay suit. Katniss' team descends on me; making me look like 'I've been in battle but haven't been defeated' and I have to admit that they do a pretty good job of it. In the end I end up with a face that's covered in soot. Where my skin shows, they make it look like I've been scrapped up. I am taken back to President Coin for her evaluation and when she gives her approval, I'm taken down to the filming room.

Cressida – the director – greets me with a smile and introduces me to the rest of her crew. Castor and Pollux work for her as cameramen. Castor greets me warmly, but Pollux only offers a smile for me. At first, I think it's because he's quiet but something about how he holds his mouth and how he swallows tells me that he is an Avox. Castor confirms this a moment later.

The plan is for me to be wielding the gun Beetee made me and be walking around, surveying the damage – the smoke will be too thick for the viewer to see much else than me and the smoke.

"And then," Plutarch says, smacking his hands together. "We want you to turn and look at the camera and shout _People of Panem: we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!_"

I fight not to raise an eyebrow. That line seems like it'll kill the revolution more than feed its flames, but I don't say so. Haymitch told me after I was suited up that they'd wanted to just feed me lines in the studio but he'd insisted that the people needed to see me in action – if it was just surveying damage and talking to bombing victims. He also told me to act well.

"_You're the one who always could act for the camera, so do it." _

His words echo in my mind as I do as I'm told, taking my gun and holding it as I've been taught to. I climb over what was supposedly rubble and survey the damage for a few moments. And then I turn to the camera.

"I want the Capitol to know that I'm alive. I want them to know that I'm here and I will fight." I say in my most forceful voice. "People of Panem: we dare, we fight, we end our hunger for justice!"

There's silence and then Cressida's voice rings out. "That's a wrap."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note:**

Thank you to everyone who reviewed! I hope you're having a great beginning to 2014!

- Violetrose136

* * *

CHAPTER FIVE

Delly climbs aboard the hovercraft as we prepare to journey to District Eight to review the damage. I greet her with a smile.

My Mockingjay suit has been replaced by a pair of grey slacks and a long sleeved black v-neck sweater. There was something of an argument over whether or not I should wear my Mockingjay suit into District Eight, but I argued that there was something almost tacky about going around in a piece of armour all the time. President Coin was satisfied when Octavia pulled out a black bulletproof jacket. They figure that they can detect any threat and get me out of there if need be. Still, contained in the inside pocket of my jacket is a Nightlock pill – a lethal pill to be taken if I'm taken into custody by the enemies.

Most of District Thirteen has begun to view Delly and I as a couple, although we haven't actually discussed the matter. I don't know how I feel. With Katniss gone… a part of my soul seems to have gone with her. I sit in the dining room. Someone has thought to bring crackers and pasta along for the journey and so I eat readily, not wanting my stomach growling while I talk to patients.

It takes all of three hours to get to District Eight. When we get there, Haymitch accompanies me out of the hovercraft. Behind us come guards and the camera crew. Of course, the guards will not be featured in the film presented to Panem. It wouldn't do to have the Mockingjay be guarded day and night. Delly is not allowed to go, either. They are still going strong with the star-crossed lover's idea and believe that it would be ill founded to have me shown with any girl but Katniss.

Commander Paylor – the leader of the District Eight rebels – greets us as we come off the hovercraft. I like her immediately. Although she is not very old – mid thirties at most – she radiates power and wisdom. She has dark eyes and even darker hair that reminds me of Katniss.

"Welcome to District Eight, I cannot begin to explain what it means that you are here." She says.

"I wanted to come." I say almost immediately. And I did.

"Well we have plenty of wounded, so you'd better get started."

She leads us through District Eight. Like Twelve, it is a relatively poor District but it is responsible for making textiles instead of producing coal. I remember that I killed a girl from District Eight. I later found out that her name was Cassia. She had started a fire on the first night. I remember the idiocy of her fire and feel a wave of pity for the girl who's life I ended. Blessedly, Commander Paylor makes no mention of her.

The hospital is disgusting. There is a smell of death in the air and moans everywhere. It takes all of my self-control not to bolt from the place. No, I cannot do that. These are the people most in need of hope. These are the people who I will help. Haymitch joins me, speaking to people as we work our way along the rows of beds.

A hand reaches up and grabs my arm. "Is it really you?" A woman whispers.

I look down at her. Her leg is bandaged. Blood is seeping through the bandage and there seems to be a fly colony on it. I force a smile and sit on the side of her cot, letting her grip my hand.

"Yes, it's me."

"They… they said you were dead. In the Capitol with Katniss," Her face is squinted in pain but there's something else there, hope perhaps? "You lost your baby. Well, she did. But I'm so sorry, Mockingjay. I'm so sorry. My sister had a miscarriage. She cried for weeks. It's a horrible thing."

I nod. "It would have been a beautiful child." I squeeze her hand. "But we're going to win and we're going to get Katniss back from the rebels. We'll have another chance to be together: because we're going to win."

She smiles. "John?" She murmurs to the man in the cot next to her. "John, look who it is. It's the Mockingjay, he's here. And he's alive."

And so it begins. Eventually the stench of the warehouse turned hospital is lost on me as I talk to people, giving them hope. A number of them mention the unborn child Katniss lost and I can't help but feel a wave of guilt. But I put on a brave face and thank all of them for their kindness.

All the while, I am being filmed.

Hours later, when I have gotten around to everybody, Haymitch touches my arm and tells me that it's time to go. Paylor smiles at me – revealing that she is truly a beautiful woman – and grips my hands in her own.

"Thank you, Peeta. I cannot begin to explain what your visit means to us." She says. She is kinder than before and I wonder why. Have I proven that I care about the cause to her? That's ridiculous. Of course I care about the rebellion. Regardless, I respond warmly and bid District Eight goodbye. I head onto the hover craft and Delly rushes into my arms, kissing me,

"How was it?"

Good question. "Hard," I reply honestly. "So many people are hurt for the cause of freedom… and we might not even win. Something worse than the Hunger Games could come out of this…"

She presses her finger to my lips. "Bad talking the rebellion probably equals some sort of punishment." And then she kisses me.

I respond to the kiss, but I'm not part of it. It's not the same as kissing Katniss. It's not the beautiful, all-consuming kiss that I shared with her. It is simply the physical action, which on its own is arguably a pleasant action. Can I be happy with Delly if Katniss never returns? The question is not a new one.

She pulls back and smiles at me.

"It's odd that Gale didn't come along." I comment, running my hand over her golden hair.

"They didn't tell you?" She asks, looking surprised. "I thought you specifically requested him."

"Requested him for what?"

"The rescue mission – you know, to save Katniss and the others."

"What?!"

"Coin announced this morning that she was commissioning it."

So I may have sent Gale Hawthorne to his death. Great. "What?! They sent a rescue mission to the Capitol? Are they insane?"

She shrugs. "Coin thought you'd operate better if you knew that Katniss was safe." She falls silent. "Would you?"

"Well, it'd be nice to know she's not being tortured every time I appear anywhere." I reply. But I know that her question went deeper than that. And I cannot answer it.

We ride in silence back to District Thirteen. Delly dozes off, resting her head against my shoulder. When we get, back I'm told that I'm not needed for the rest of the day. No one mentions the Capitol rescue mission. Do they know that I know? I want to be alone, but Delly catches up to me as I walk towards my compartment. She slides her fingers through mine and interlocks them.

"What'd you wanna do now?"

"I was going back to my compartment." The words are out before I can stop them and before I realize their implication.

She looks surprised, but a smile spreads across her face. "Oh, I'll go with you."

We head up to my new compartment which was assigned to me after someone told me that my other one had been destroyed in the bombings. I open the door and find an apartment virtually identical to the one I was in before. It seems that even the Mockingjay doesn't get special treatment when it comes to sleeping quarters.

I turn to Delly. "Looks pretty standard,"

"The one I share with Gabble looks the same, but it has two beds."

I nod. "This one only has one." I say lamely.

"That's not a problem." She says, reaching up to kiss me. Again, I respond to the kiss. She deepens the kiss, wrapping her arms around my neck. She sighs, though it is not a regretful sound and kisses me again. "I've waited for so long to do this," She whispers.

At first, I respond and our kissing increases. And then, a sudden urge to forget it all, forget Katniss Everdeen and the rebellion and everything overtakes me. A bit of a dark temper begins to rise in me, but I make those intense emotions physical. Delly and I fall on top of each other and she yanks me down onto the bed, somehow managing to do so without stopping the kissing. She digs her nails into my back and my hands slide up the back of her neck and I release the ponytail she had been wearing. I run my fingers through her unbound hair and shift my mouth down and kiss her neck.

"You are… amazing." She murmurs. And I can tell that she means it. Her whole face glows with affection for me. I am on top of her and she arches upwards, letting my lips press harder against her skin. My hands slip under the bottom of her shirt and she does not push them away. They trail upwards along her stomach, just barely touching the edge of her bra.

I was surprised to see things escalating so quickly. Honestly though… I didn't mind. This was the way my life went: everything was always fast and intense. Like that kiss on the beach, it had been sudden and fast and intense. I could feel it all over again. The way her lips had pressed against mine and the feel of her hands running through my hair and the deep, powerful meaning behind the kiss.

And then, I realize something.

I am kissing Delly, but in my head I am with Katniss. And it isn't like I'm just remembering either. I am actually imagining that I am with Katniss – right now. I am reliving that kiss over and over again. With my eyes closed, it is easy to pretend.

But then, I open them and I see Delly's eyes. And then I know that she is with me. She adores me and wants me. For me to do this, with her… to be with her and pretend that I am with someone else…

It isn't right.

Her hands reach down to unbutton my trousers. I wriggle out of her reach. "No… don't."

She stops immediately. "Too much?" She asks and I nod. "That's okay; we don't have to do that."

She reaches for me again and I move away. "No, I just don't… I don't know. Let's call it quits, okay?"

She looks hurt. "This is about Katniss, isn't it?"

Again, I don't address her question. "I'm sorry, Delly… I just can't."

"But you want me."

Physically? Yes, I did want her. Every cell in my body is screaming abuse at me, wondering why I don't just grab her and kiss her again and stop thinking. It was simple biology: I am male and she is female. Physically, there is no question that I could continue and end up where she wants to end up.

But emotionally was another story entirely. She is not the one I have spent over a decade admiring and loving. She is not the one I dream of every night and yearn for every second of every day. Delly is calm: a meadow on a summer day, a wildflower or a ray of sunshine. But I do not need calmness; I do not need to know how to be mellow: I know well enough how to do it alone. What I need is a mountain during a rainstorm, a fire that has fallen out of control. What I need is Katniss.

"I'm sorry, Delly: I just can't."

She sits up and does her hair back into a ponytail. "It's okay, it's all right."

I hear guardedness in her voice. "You're mad." I take her hand, but she pulls it away. "Delly, it's not personal… I'm just not – I'm not ready."

She looks at me, her expression is stormy. "I can't read your signals, Peeta." She says. "One moment you're hot and the next you're cold. You tell me you want me and then you act like you don't. If you picked one, that'd be fine, but you keep making me think one thing and then you end up going in a completely different direction Now just now—all the time."

It is true. I have gone back and forth with her. Sometimes, I have been flirty and others I have completely disregarded her.

"Is there something you want me to do?" She asks, when I don't say anything. "Something that'll make you feel better about me? Dye my hair brown?"

It is a cheap reference to my attachment to Katniss and I don't acknowledge it. "I don't know." I reply and it is true, I don't know. I don't know if I can ever love anyone else in the way that I loved Katniss.

"Then what do you want in general?" She asks, sighing.

_Katniss, _my mind screams at me. But aloud I say, "I don't know."

With another sigh, she stands up and heads for the door. With her hand on the knob, she turns and looks at me. "Peeta, for someone who claims to be as dedicated as you are, you sure have a lot to learn about yourself."

The door slams behind her. The noise makes me flinch as I stare at where Delly has just stood. And I realize that she is right. I do have a lot to learn.

It is several hours later that I awake to a pounding on the door. I had fallen asleep after Delly left, feeling too depressed and dejected to actually get up and leave the bed and do something useful. Muttering a few colourful words under my breath about my knocker, I go and answer the door.

It's Haymitch.

"They arrived safely."

"Who?"

He looks at me as if I'm mentally handicapped. "Katniss and the others, they're here."

_Katniss is here? In District Thirteen? _"And the team?" I ask thinking of Gale and how upset Katniss will be if he has died. "Is Gale all right?"

Haymitch nods. "Katniss is awake; her family was there when she woke up. Boggs sent me to bring you to see her."

I walk alongside Haymitch in a daze. I picture seeing Katniss for the first time in weeks, I picture her opening her eyes and leaning up and embracing me as I lean over her. A stupid grin works its way across my face. Haymitch doesn't see it and I know if he does I will be teased endlessly, but in this moment I do not care. Katniss is away from Snow and all the horrible things he wanted to do to her.

We walk into the hospital. It occurs to me that my hair is probably sticking up at all sorts of angles, following my afternoon nap. I couldn't care less. We are directed to a private room and Haymitch steps aside and motions for me to go in. Slowly, I reach for the door handle and turn it, letting the door swing open to reveal a fairly standard hospital room. I don't notice it at all as I walk into the room into a daze.

And there she is, Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire.

She leaps from the bed – I am surprised that she is in any condition to walk – and throws her arms around me. I hold her tightly and her name is just forming on my lips when I feel a sharp pain in my abdomen. And then another. The pain is intense and deep. I gasp and my arms fall away from her to touch my abdomen, when I pull my hand away, it is red. I look up at her in shock. I hear voices shouting from somewhere far away.

The world is narrowing.

And then I realize what has happened.

Katniss Everdeen has stabbed me.


End file.
